


Sharing His Bed, Sharing His Breath

by NahaFlowers



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Soft boys being soft, also James wearing Thomas's nightshirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahaFlowers/pseuds/NahaFlowers
Summary: The aftermath of the dinner kiss. After Peter and Miranda leave, Thomas asks James to come to bed with him. Then, Thomas's hesitance makes James braver.





	Sharing His Bed, Sharing His Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "what do you think happened right after the dinner kiss? like, did james stay the night?"

They bid Peter goodnight; shortly after, Miranda also made her excuses and wished them goodnight, a twinkle in her eyes when she looked at James, although she and Thomas exchanged a somewhat anxious glance. James was just thinking that he should probably leave too when Thomas turned to him and said seductively, “Will you come up to bed with me then, Lieutenant?”

He was so close to James that he could feel Thomas’s breath whisper against his face. He had stayed close all night, and James had desperately wanted to reach out and touch him ever since they had broken apart after dinner, but at the same time he had not wanted to break the spell, burst the happy bubble that had started in his chest and spread through his body until he felt like he was floating. Thomas had _kissed_ him. That meant…James did not want to dwell on what it meant, or might not mean. It had happened, and that was enough.

He did not want to break the spell now. But he could feel Thomas’s eyes on him, searching his face, even as James avoided his sentence, and he spoke before James could even think what to say.

“Or not,” said Thomas quickly. “I mean, you don’t have to. Of _course_ you don’t have to,” he said, a little more forcefully. “But I just thought – after – but I shouldn’t assume.” He came to a halt, sounding furious with himself, and James finally turned and met his gaze. “You should stay the night all the same,” he said, softer now, sadder. “It’s far too late to go traipsing across London now, and I wouldn’t put it past my father to – I don’t know – do something…” He trailed off when James put a hand on his arm, and looked urgently at James, as if James had the power of life and death over him.

“Thomas,” said James, and his voice was hoarse. “I want to-” he licked his lips and looked at Thomas’s, who was unconsciously reflecting him, “what you want,” he continued, more nervous than he could ever remember being. “You must know I want it too…” Thomas let out a long breath, whether of relief, shock or desire James did not know – he knew he was experiencing all three emotions, in lesser or greater quantities. He ploughed on, determinedly. “But I – with everything that’s happened this evening – we haven’t even had the chance to _talk_ about – about what happened,” he finished lamely.

There was a dark look in Thomas’s eyes that said, ‘What is there to talk about?’ James was equal parts relieved and disappointed that he did not voice it – he was not sure he would have been able to resist, but what scared the rational part of his brain (which had suddenly decided to make a return after taking most of the evening off) was that he was not sure he would have wanted to, consequences be damned.

Thomas nodded. “You’re right,” he said, and now a flattering pink blush suffused his cheeks. “Of course you’re right, James. I’m sorry I was – overcome – for a moment there.” He looked down at his feet and then back up at James, a little rueful.

James gave him an amused glance. “I can’t say I blame you,” he rumbled. “But…” he took a deep breath, steadying himself. “We need to be cautious right now.”

“We do,” said Thomas, and James thought he could detect a little bitterness in his tone. It made James want to reach out and squeeze his hand, perhaps kiss it. “You…you will stay the night, though?” he asked. “Not- not in my room, if you don’t wish it,” he hastened to add. “But…I find I cannot bear for you to be too far away from me, at present,” he admitted.

James felt his heart contract with fondness for this wonderful man, who had kissed him so boldly mere hours ago, so hesitantly confessing his feelings for James and asking him to stay. He moved closer and hesitantly kissed him on the cheek, feeling gratified when Thomas let out a sigh and leaned into him, looping his arm over his shoulder so he wouldn’t back away again. “I have no intention of sleeping in anyone’s bed but yours, my lord,” he breathed in Thomas’s ear, astonished at his own daring. “If you will have me, of course.”

James felt a shudder go through Thomas. “Of course,” he repeated, as if mesmerised. He took James’s hand gently in his own. “Follow me.”

James felt the bubble of happy disbelief expand in his chest again as Thomas’s fingers wrapped themselves through his own, his thumb now and then stroking down the length of James’s with such tenderness that James felt like crying.

When they reached his bedroom and the door closed behind them, they gazed at each other for a long time. James was memorising every detail of Thomas’s face, for if Thomas decided tomorrow that this had all been a terrible mistake and he never wanted to see James again, he wanted to have every mole and flaw and pore of Thomas’s face committed to memory.

Then, without warning, Thomas kissed his hand gently and dropped it, heading to the dresser.

“You can borrow one of my nightshirts,” Thomas explained, fumbling in a drawer.

“All right,” said James vaguely. His brain seemed only just to have properly registered that here he was, standing in Thomas Hamilton’s bedroom, and he had just agreed to spend the night in Thomas Hamilton’s bed. He suddenly found that he was struggling to breathe.

“Thomas,” he croaked.

Thomas turned around immediately, fresh white nightshirt in hand, and upon seeing James’s wracked expression, strode straight over to him. He gripped his shoulder and pressed his forehead to James, and asked urgently, “What is it, James?”

James looked shakily into Thomas’s eyes, filling his own fill with tears, which he blinked away angrily. “Thomas, can you tell me – can you promise me,” he swallowed a lump in his throat, “that if I stay here tonight, you won’t wake up tomorrow and regret it?”

Thomas pulled his head back from James looking shocked. He shook his head quickly. “James – I – of course not.” He sounded stunned. “James, if you…” he drew a deep breath, “if you don’t feel comfortable with this, if you want to sleep in another room, take things slower, then-” he made a gesture as if to say, ‘please do so’. “But I could never,” he shook his head in astonished amusement, before kissing both of James’s cheeks in turn, “regret this.” He made a helpless gesture. “I want you to stay. For as long as you will have me.” He bit his lip.  “Forever, if you will it.”

James pulled gently out of Thomas’s grip and turned away, so he could not see how deeply his words had affected James. He had been convinced by the shock in Thomas’s tone – of course, of _course_ Thomas would only do this if he was sure. But he had not been prepared to hear just how deeply Thomas’s feelings for him ran. He took a deep breath, willing his racing pulse to calm down.

“Very well,” he said, meeting Thomas’s eyes again and smiling slightly. “I will stay.” This time he was sure it was relief that loosened Thomas’s frame, as he smiled back at him. James took the nightshirt from Thomas’s unresisting hands. He looked at it for a moment, and then looked awkwardly back at Thomas. “Will you turn around?” he asked, embarrassedly. They had decided they weren’t going to fuck that night, but he wasn’t sure if they would be able to resist, if James was stood naked and half hard in front of Thomas.

Thomas blushed deeply and turned around. James stripped quickly, his eyes on Thomas’s back, and pulled on the too-big nightshirt. Then he cleared his throat. “You can turn around now.”

Thomas did so and took in the vision in front of him, lips quirking slightly.

“What?” James asked quickly.

“Nothing,” said Thomas innocently, still smiling as he retrieved his own nightshirt from beneath the pillows. “You now,” he said, pushing James’s back gently, and James obediently turned around, digging his nails into his thighs to prevent himself from peeking over his shoulder as Thomas’s clothes rustled tantalisingly behind him.

“There,” said Thomas, and James turned around. Thomas’s eyes swept him up and down again, and this time he actually laughed.

“What is it?” asked James, indignant.

Thomas shook his head. “Nothing, my dear,” he said, and James felt his stomach flutter at the endearment. “Just that we need to bring some of your own clothes here as soon as possible.”

James looked down at the overlarge nightshirt and half-laughed. “I rather like it,” he said. He did, truthfully. He always preferred his nightshirts a little oversized – there was something comforting about the way they covered his hands so he could grip onto them – and this one, although freshly laundered, smelled like Thomas. Then he registered what Thomas had just said. The fluttering in his stomach increased tenfold at the idea that Thomas saw his presence as a permanent fixture here – in his bedroom, in his life.

Thomas, however, was smiling thoughtfully. “Then I hope you never take it off.”

James flushed – a blush that became even more pronounced when Thomas licked his lips and said, “Well…maybe not never.” He exhaled a puff of air. “But enough of that, for tonight. We should go to bed.”

James nodded and let Thomas take him by the hand and guide him to bed, lifting the covers and making sure James was comfortable before sliding in himself. He turned to look at James, their faces mere inches apart on the pillows. Thomas lifted a hand to stoke his face, and James took a deep shuddering breath – something about sleeping with Thomas – feeling his body so close to his, sharing his bed, sharing his breath – felt even more intimate than if they were fucking.

“Are you all right?” Thomas asked gently.

“Yes,” said James, a little shakily. “This is all just a little…”

“Strange?” smiled Thomas. “Unexpected?”

“Yes.”

Thomas’s eyes were bright as he leant forward to kiss James on the lips, for the first time since dinner.

James pressed forward with a moan of longing, feeling Thomas’s tongue probing his and twisting them together. They pressed their foreheads together, then drew back, sighing, although James noticed now what he hadn’t in all the sensation of the kiss – Thomas’s hand has sneak to his waist, holding him closer.

“Are _you_ all right?” James asked suddenly, eyes flickering to Thomas’s which had looked troubled for a second. Now, though, they only looked sleepy and ecstatically happy. _I caused that_ , thought James proudly.

“I’m perfect, James,” he said blissfully.

“But,” said James fretfully, finally reflecting on all that had happened that evening, quite apart from the development of their relationship. “Your father, the pirates of Nassau…”

“Hush,” said Thomas, raising his hand from James’s waist to press a finger to his lips. “Not tonight. We can deal with it tomorrow. And with Peter’s help, well…” He huffed. “We’re in a much better position than we were.”

“You deserved the support of every single person in that room,” said James heatedly. “They’re all bloody cowards.”

Thomas smiled and kissed him. “Don’t think on it tonight, my dear. And,” he continued, a little reprovingly, although there was a twinkle in his eyes, “I would thank you not to my father while we’re in bed together.”

James chuckled self-consciously. “Right you are, my lord,” he said, teasingly, tracing Thomas’s jaw with his thumb, then leaning in for a kiss.

The kiss went on longer than any of the previous ones, mouths opening and tongues entwining, both of them gasping and moaning until Thomas drew back. James chased his lips with a keening sound, causing Thomas to chuckle regretfully. “I think, perhaps, it’s time we went to sleep.”

James groaned. “Perhaps,” he conceded, although he could resist giving Thomas a final peck on the lips before rolling over and trying to get to sleep, although he was sure that he wouldn’t sleep for hours. The wonder he felt at the fact that he was now allowed to kiss Thomas whenever he liked was just one of the musings that would keep him awake. However, he dutifully closed his eyes, and then opened them again, in the now pitch-black room, when Thomas whispered, “May I hold you while we sleep, or would you rather sleep apart?”

James blushed in the darkness at the very notion, but answered Thomas by scooting back and lifting his shoulder so Thomas could slip an arm under him, encircling his chest and waist. Despite James’s conviction that he would not sleep for hours with his head so full of thoughts, with Thomas’s arms around him, he drifted off almost immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do this prompt justice, so I really hope I have! Comments are love.


End file.
